


Playing Amends

by courtingstars (FallingSilver)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Bokushi Is Very Snarky, Brotherly Love, Canon Related, Classical Music, Companionable Snark, Gen, Oreshi PoV, Oreshi and Bokushi, Piano, Platonic Relationships, brotherly teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:24:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5221304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingSilver/pseuds/courtingstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akashi has something he needs to tell his other self. His little brother is angry with him, and for good reason. In the end, though, music is a language they both understand. (Set after the Winter Cup.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Amends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madridistagoblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madridistagoblue/gifts), [Shadowwing94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowwing94/gifts).



> This one-shot was inspired by some friends of mine over at Tumblr, so you can read the full author's note for it [there](http://courtingstars.tumblr.com/post/133319908617/playing-amends-knb-fic). It also fits into my giant fic timeline that starts with [The Bridges Between Us](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4547418/chapters/10351389). (This scene takes place a few months later.) Enjoy! (And for those of you waiting on the next chapter of The Fast Train to Kyoto, I hope to post it in the coming week!)

Half past midnight, Akashi Seijuurou was serenading the stars.

It was common for him to turn to music at this hour, to refresh his mind after another prolonged session of studying. He supposed the servants must be used to his nighttime concerts by now. Still, he was in the habit of opening the balcony doors in his parlor, to funnel the music across the vast grounds of his Kyoto estate.

Even in early springtime, when the air trailed a lingering chill upon the tips of its rimed fingers, Akashi opened the doors wide. And for an hour or so, he allowed the cold night air and the gentle music to clear his head.

Tonight he had chosen the piano, and his fingers skipped across the keys in an elaborate waltz of notes. It was a warm-up, of sorts. The speed and complexity of the composition mirrored the busy pace of a brain still buzzing with tasks. It was only when his mind began to calm that he turned to the sweeter, more lyrical pieces that he favored in these nocturnal sessions.

After ten minutes or so, a sigh drifted from his lips, and he settled into a different piece. This one began low, and soft. The chords swirled at a tentative pace, as a somber melody took shape. He had played this composition more times than he could count, since learning it as a small child. Beethoven’s _Moonlight Sonata_.

He played it slowly and gently now, letting the memories flow through his mind.

 _Feeling sentimental, are we?_ said a voice, as familiar to him as breath.

Akashi raised his head, but he kept playing. The piece had long served as a kind of summons for his other self. (Beethoven was one of the few composers whose merits they could both agree on.) Still, he hadn’t been certain it would work tonight.

“You’re awake.” He did not murmur the words aloud, as he sometimes did when the two of them were alone, but spoke them inside his mind. He often marveled at how easy it was to talk to his other self. To communicate in ways that were like speaking, and in others that were nothing like it at all. “I was starting to wonder where you’d gone.”

_What, lonely already? It’s pitiful, how desperate you are for my company._

A smile tugged at Akashi’s lips. He was used to his brother’s aloof remarks.

 _And no, you’re not rid of me yet, brother dearest,_ his other self added, with obvious sarcasm. _If that’s what you were hoping._

His tone was distinctly bitter.

“Ah, so you’ve been sulking,” Akashi said, brows raised in mock surprise. “I should have guessed as much.”

_I never sulk._

“You’re right,” Akashi mused. “It’s more like pouting, I would say. More childish.”

_Would you like me to leave again? I would rather sleep until we’re both dead, than endure what you think passes for wit._

Akashi’s smile widened, as he transitioned into the second movement, a sweeter part of the sonata.

“Careful now, brother,” he said. “From what I hear, you’re even less skilled at humor than I am.”

There was a huffy sort of pause, followed by, _Well, goodnight. I will see you in whatever future life we manage to attain._

Akashi couldn’t quite stop an inner laugh. The other presence in his mind began to weaken, like fading static. His mirth softened. His brother, it seemed, was far angrier than he had first appeared.

“Do you remember?” Akashi said, calling him back. “When I used to play this piece, and talk to you.”

He slowed the pace of his fingers, letting the music become more plaintive.

The other presence halted, no longer fading. In his mind, Akashi could see his other self, standing in the featureless room that was their shared headspace. (A subjective construct, of course, but it was reality for them.)

His other self hesitated, on the brink of the shadows that loomed at the back of the chamber. Whenever one of them stepped fully into this darkness, they could no longer communicate. It was as if that self had fallen into a deep sleep.

His brother made a scoffing sound. His heterochromatic eyes gleamed.

 _Of course I remember,_ he said.

He crossed his arms, and returned to sit on the block that served as a seat, for whichever of them was not controlling the body.

 _Such a sad little boy you were,_ he added, in his dry way. _All those sleepless nights. And I endured your tearful melancholy for hours on end._

Akashi lowered his gaze to the keys, as they dipped fluidly beneath his fingers. He allowed himself to remember, to share the recollections with his other self. Of a boy of eleven, too sad and afraid to sleep, talking to a voice inside his head. A voice just as young as he was. Akashi’s heart twinged at the memories.

He could recall asking, many times, if his other self was going to leave him. He always promised he would not.

“You were very kind,” he murmured.

His other self turned his head, and hmphed.

Akashi’s hands began to move faster, as the sonata increased in complexity. He focused on the music for a moment, trying to decide how best to phrase what he wanted to say next.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, hesitantly.

His other self raised a brow. _Now there’s a dangerous proposition. I’m quite sure that of the two of us, the thinking is better left to me._

His tone was as haughty as ever. Akashi simply smiled. “Not to worry. You wouldn’t consider this to be a very pure form of thought.”

_Ah yes, the usual sentimentality that pollutes your logic. Or what you claim passes for it. Well, better to stick to what you know… However flawed it may be._

Normally, Akashi might have retorted, and made a case for the value of empathy. But he was silent. Though his fingers moved with nimble grace across the piano keys, he felt weighed down. Recalling the darkest part of his childhood was difficult as it was. Tonight, however, that sorrow mingled with an increasing feeling of guilt.

As a child, he had begged his other self to remain with him, time and time again. But his brother had done so much more than that. To support him, and help him.

And how had Akashi repaid him?

He bent a little closer to the keys. The notes cascaded one after the other, like a midnight rainfall.

“I should apologize,” he said, in a low voice. “I was in the wrong.”

His other self’s expression grew stormier. _What, for trying to murder me? I have heard homicide is generally cause for remorse, among decent people._

Akashi bowed his head. Really, what he had been planning was worse than murder. He had thought to convince his other self to disappear for good. It was a betrayal, in every respect.

“I know,” he said, trying to convey all the sincerity he could in his thoughts. “I was too hard on you. On us both. You know that’s a weakness of mine.”

His other self rolled his eyes.

_Yes, you do love to torture yourself. You’re such a delight to share headspace with. All that constant moaning and groaning about our sins. Very uplifting._

Akashi furrowed his brows.

“Is that so?” he said, in a significant tone. “Because I happen to know you’ve been feeling some remorse of your own lately.”

Predictably, his brother looked irritated. _We will not be continuing this conversation._

He crossed his arms tighter, and Akashi could sense his discomfort.

 _However, you are certainly free to describe in detail everything that **you** did wrong, _ he added, with a faintly petulant look.

Akashi couldn’t help a small chuckle. He knew better than to push him further, for now. This was a delicate subject. And they had both made more than their fair share of mistakes. It was the least he could do, to take responsibility for his.

“All right,” he said.

He was nearing the end of the piece now. His fingers flew from key to key, at the same pace as his mind. Akashi knew his brother could keep up with everything he was thinking, no matter how quickly he pondered it. Still, as the music built to a crescendo, he tried to give a more coherent voice to his thoughts.

“I was weak,” he began, inside his mind. “I know that. I jeopardized everything you and I value most.”

He tried not to shudder at the memories, those dark months at Teikou where he came to believe everything was falling apart.

“And I asked you to help me,” he said, in a low tone. “The whole thing was my doing. I shouldn’t have turned my back on my responsibilities, no matter how afraid I was. I should have offered to share the burden. It was too much to ask, even of you.”

He declined to think on any of the events that had followed his disappearance. It would have felt too much like blame.

“I am the one most at fault,” he added, sincerely. “And I’m truly sorry for what I did to you. What I was planning to do.”

Here he faltered. This admission was painful. Even now, part of him worried he was only clinging to his brother because he was being selfish. And his brother knew that.

But in the end, Akashi had decided on a different conclusion.

“It was wrong,” he said, as firmly as he could. “And I…”

He played the last few notes, and lowered his hands from the keys.

“I don’t want you to go,” he whispered, letting his lips form the words for the first time that evening. “I never did.”

A long silence followed, as the sound of his voice faded. His brother gazed into space. He could surely sense that Akashi wasn’t lying. Just as Akashi could sense his brother’s hesitation, his lingering resentment. The reality that his apology wasn’t enough. A pang of remorse squeezed between Akashi’s ribs.

He drew a breath, and raised his hands to the keys again. And he started to play a new piece. It was slow and quiet, similar to the beginning of the Moonlight Sonata. But a high, simple melody floated above the lower notes, like a child’s voice.

His other self tipped his head slightly, a near-invisible gesture. Akashi already knew he didn’t recognize the piece. He knew, because he had composed it. Recently, and only when his brother was sleeping.

He shaped the tune, chord by chord, until the harmony part came up a little higher, and echoed the melody more closely. Like two voices, talking to each other. Akashi could see his brother frowning. He forced himself to focus on the piece, to echo the feelings he had when composing it inside his head.

He thought of all those lonely memories again, of being a child who felt so alone in the world, and of feeling less alone with that second presence to keep him company. And he played on. Every so often, a cluster of menacing minor notes thrummed beneath the melody, rising toward it, as though some danger was approaching. But the harmony would always absorb them, before they could reach the higher chords.

The harmony, protecting the melody. Akashi swallowed.

He was the elder brother, in a way. It was a notion they both accepted. But the truth was, Akashi’s other self was always protecting him. Shielding Akashi, from all the things in life he couldn’t seem to handle alone.

Gradually, the melody transitioned into brighter, happier chords. The piece became busier, with more notes in each measure. But the melody and harmony were lower now, as though their voices had aged a bit. Other refrains appeared here and there, like new voices. Friendly voices, like colorful companions to the first two.

But the piece did not stay friendly. After a few minutes, Akashi transitioned into a new movement. It began nearly as happily as the first, but grew darker and darker. Soon the different notes all sounded discordant with each other, like the piece was falling apart. And that first melody, that first voice that had once been strong and confident and led the composition from the beginning, simply disappeared.

And now the real nature of the piece became evident. Because that harmony, the one that had spoken to the original melody, grew stronger and louder. Until at last it became the melody, and forced the discordant notes in harmony with it. The tune rolled along like thunder, and it was far from being a cheerful sound. But it was a united one.

And now the piece made a strange jump. Akashi had skipped ahead, past part of the composition, which was still unfinished. The booming melody from before was both harmony and melody now. The sound was confident, and unrelenting. But soon it became clear that something was wrong with it. It began to break apart, and grow softer. Until it, too, began to fade away.

Akashi paused, allowing for a moment of silence. Then he began to play again, and the piece was now back to where it had started. With that original melody and harmony, talking to one another. The voices had changed a bit, but the way they blended together was the same.

And with that, the piece ended.

Akashi sat very still. His brother sat still too, in that dark inner space. His lips were pursed, his eyes downcast.

 _That’s not really how it ends, is it?_ His voice was knowing, slightly pained.

“I don’t know what the ending will be.” Akashi managed a small smile. “But I hope you realize this composition isn’t meant to be tragic. It’s a tribute.”

His brother raised his head. He looked startled, even confused.

Akashi clenched his hands.

 “I am grateful,” he said. His words echoed in the empty room. “I will always be grateful. You were strong, when I wasn’t. You never faltered.”

Tears clouded his eyes, tightened his throat. He carefully pushed them back.

 “I may not have agreed with all of your decisions, but…” His voice was hoarse now. “You were doing what you thought was best. And if it weren’t for you…”

He took a deep breath. This was the most important part.

“Everything might have been lost,” he whispered.

He had realized this recently. He would never have proposed that his Teikou teammates focus on competing with each other in high school. He would have tried to maintain their friendships. It was a battle he would have lost. So much more was needed, in the end, to fix what was broken between them. Which meant if his other self had not proposed that fateful competition, as ill advised as it was…

The Generation of Miracles probably wouldn’t have reunited.

So as strange as it might have seemed, Akashi owed this outcome, in part, to his little brother. His brother had believed in their connection, just as much as any of them. As much as Kuroko, even. He had been wrong, about the true nature of the solution, as well as the way he had gone about it…

But maybe, once in a rare while, an imperfect solution could bring about the best result. His brother had not been wrong, about the competition itself. Even Kuroko had realized that was part of the answer.

Maybe sometimes, even mistakes were allowed to happen for a reason. Akashi could hardly believe he was thinking that, but perhaps it was true.

In any case, his brother had tried his best, to regain what was irreplaceable to them both. And now, now that all the miracles had happened and everything had changed, Akashi could only think of one thing left to say.

“Thank you.”

There was a long silence. In his mind, Akashi could see his brother, still sitting alone. His eyes were wide, as though he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Probably because they had argued so many times, about the things he had done.

For a moment, just one infinitesimal moment, his lips trembled. Then his expression went back to being as stony as before. He turned his head away.

 _I did what I had to_ , he said. _One of us needed to take charge of the situation._

His voice was low, nearly inaudible.

_But… You’re welcome._

Akashi gave a slow nod.

“Are you all right?” he said, no longer able to suppress his concern. “You’ve been sleeping so often. And your presence feels weaker—”

 _I’m fine_ , his brother said in a cold voice. _I have no wish to speak of it._

Akashi understood. He leaned forward on the piano bench.

“I know it must be hard for you,” he murmured, thinking back to their defeat at the Winter Cup. “Harder, even, than it was for me.”

He still winced to recall it. The pain of defeat, that he had experienced for the first time in his life. As difficult as it had been for him, victory was even more central to his brother’s identity. It was no wonder he was still reeling from the experience.

 “I can take charge, for now,” Akashi added gently. “But stay with me, please.”

He began to play the tune he had composed once more. He didn’t say what he was thinking: ‘This time, I will try to protect you.’ He didn’t want his brother to think he was patronizing him.

His brother gave him a wry sort of look. He let out a heavy sigh.

 _Well, I can’t exactly leave you alone,_ he said, with his usual composure _. You’d just fall to pieces again. All the king’s horses, et cetera. Or however that absurd English poem goes._

Akashi smiled, genuinely this time. Relief warmed his chest.

He was playing the central melody and harmony again. He listened as the two voices melded together, and his brother listened too.

A feeling crept over Akashi, one he had wanted to give voice to for some time now. He had a suspicion that his brother would rather not hear it. But somehow, that didn’t discourage him.

“What would you say, if I told you that I—”

His brother held up a hand. He had caught wind of Akashi’s thoughts, it seemed.

_Oh, don’t. Really. That’s a form of narcissism the world doesn’t need._

He looked vaguely disgusted. Akashi had the sense that he wasn’t nearly as put off as he seemed, however. The corners of Akashi’s mouth tipped upward.

“I think you’re just afraid of three little words.” A hint of amusement tinged his voice. “And here I assumed someone who was absolute could endure a simple expression of affection.”

His brother stared blankly. He rose to his feet.

 _Well, that’s it, then. I’m off._ He made his way toward the back of the room, where the shadows were. _And for the record, you are ridiculous._

He tossed this comment over his shoulder. Akashi chuckled.

“I suppose you would know,” he said. “Goodnight, brother.”

He played the song a little slower now, putting all the feeling into it that he could.

“I love you,” he added, very softly, as he finished the phrase.

His other self paused, and nearly turned his head. In the end, he continued walking into the darkness, where Akashi knew he would soon drift into sleep again.

 _Goodnight_ , he said as he disappeared, and that was all.

Still, as Akashi continued to play, his heart felt strangely full. And the tender notes he coaxed from the piano, that twinkled as brightly as the stars that arced above his balcony, took on all the soothing tones of a lullaby.


End file.
